


Mating Rituals

by DernHelm85



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gardens & Gardening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DernHelm85/pseuds/DernHelm85
Summary: After returning from the dead, Sherlock Holmes deals with living alone at Baker Street. Sherlock analyzes everything while John just needs help in the garden.





	1. Chapter 1

When Sherlock Holmes's mobile rings he doesn't always answer. In fact he rarely even checks the number immediately.

Not anymore anyway.

Life is boring. And for some reason waiting for the second or third attempt, by whomever it may be, tends to be more exciting for him. 

The wait plus the severity of the intent of the call can equal explosive situations. Avoided by most people, relished by one Sherlock Holmes.

Anyway John would text him before ringing. And lately thats been the only human contact he prefers to entertain.

And not having John upstairs, in the sitting room or cleaning up in the kitchen anymore makes any time he reaches out to the detective some sort of craving. 

And so when it rings today, the first time, he ignores it. Ringtone, not text tone. Not John.

Granted the mobile is in the sitting room and he is in his bedroom. And even if he were inclined to answer, finishing the cigarette by his open bedroom window is more agreeable.

Once the rings stop he waits. How long will it be before the next ring he wonders. He is so intent on listening for the ring he expects that the pounding on the sitting room door startles him.

The old wooden chair he's been perching on, quite precariously, shifts under the sudden weight displacement.

"Sherlock Holmes! Ive just took out the rubbish to the bins and I can SEE that smoke!"

Mrs. Hudson.

Sherlock is still unsure if she truly cares about smoke in the building, is worried he will start a fire or cares about his health. Hes never been able to pinpoint it. Probably all three.

He groans.

"It's an experiment Mrs Hudson!" He booms and readjusts his bum on the back of the chair.

"For what purpose?!" She challenges through the door. Her voice, as high pitched as it is, still reaches him through the closed door and down the hallway.

He sighs.

"Cancer Mrs Hudson!"

Her scoff is even louder than her reprimands and he smiles despite himself. But he can hear her scurrying back down the stairs. She's given up for now. 

Maybe he should start climbing on the roof again to avoid his landlady's anger.

No, no John wouldn't like that, he reminds himself.

The first time John found Sherlock's window open and no Sherlock to be seen he had quite panicked. Seeing his coat and blue scarf still hanging inside the sitting room, no shoes missing from his collection and a steaming teacup by his bedside table, his friend had immediately thrown half his body out the window and called out.

At least Sherlock had been on the roof and not crumbled in the unit's rubbish bin.

The undersides of his bare feet had been John's last clue to his location.

"You incorrigible prick!" He had yelled up.

Sherlock had leant over the edge to look down at him. Cigarette in hand and smiled.

"How did you get up there?" John had asked in... was that awe? No. Was it fear?  
Irritation plus anxiety Sherlock had settled on.

"Experience John!" He called down.

"Musgrave's heights were far superior and with less footing."

John had shaken his head and shut the window.

"John!"

Sherlock smiles at the memory. And then...a text tone. Unexpected.

He turns his head towards the sitting room and sighs again. So long cigarette. And he flicks it into the beaker of water on the window sill.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Texts.

Not answering your calls? - JW

Never. - SH

Mary encouraged me to call first. - JW

What for? You never ring. - SH

Yea it's... something couples do. Encourage each other to try new things. Do things a different way. - JW

She wants you out of the house. And I know what you're doing and I do not want a girlfriend. - SH

Alright. Alright. No girlfriends. And yea she does want me out of the house but she doesn't want me going further than the garden. - JW

Why? Sherlock thinks, racks his brain a little... has John submitted to some sort of marital domination and can't leave the premises? 

That seems unlikely and Mary doesn't seem to be too controlling.

He purses his lips and leans back in his arm chair.

What's so great about the garden? - SH

This has already gone beyond the normal short back and forth texts he's been used to since John got married 6 months ago.

So sitting back to enjoy it seems appropriate.

Its not whats great about it. Its whats not great about it. -JW

Ah. Now they were getting somewhere.

She wants you to tidy the garden. How lovely. Yes I believe thats usually man's work. Sure you'll do fine. - SH

Sherlock is ready to set the phone down. Why John needs to update him on his Honey Do list he is uncertain. But the conversation seemed to be over.

Whats funny about texts as everyone knows is that a great deal of inflection, tone and intention are scarce. Sherlock has always been able to read John well by his facial expressions. Which foot he shifts to while talking to strangers or how he scratches the back of his neck when hes nonplussed. And his eyebrows. Those honey colored eyebrows that have grown some gray already. How his mouth grows smaller and his eyes dart to one side or the other when he's trying to follow Sherlock's quicker wit.

But none of these indicators are available for data and the mobile is left on the side table as Sherlock goes back to his room to retrieve his tea. He sits on the side of his bed and picks up the cooling cup, reviewing all of John's body language, along with pulling his latest mental image of his friend from John's warm room inside his mind palace. 

The latest image he has placed in a golden frame upon the wall. Fitting for his wedding portrait but that is not the image he picked. Its John tho, having come to Baker Street to fish the last of his clothes from the bottom of the old armoire upstairs. It was when Sherlock realized his... misstep. 

While John was upstairs he went into his own room and opened the bottom drawer of his chest. Pushing a great many unworn dress shirts out of the way he lifted Johns black and white striped jumper out and folded it. He wondered how to return it without showing the obvious reason he had absconded with it.... sentiment.

The jumper said quiet breakfasts and fireside books and it said it in a voice that could be as soothing as a mother's prayer.

And the image in the frame is John just after he pressed the jumper back into Sherlock's arms and said "Sherlock... keep it." And he had smiled.

Snap.

And with all that brilliant body language Sherlock had memorized he deduced the exact emotions crossing Johns face.

Affection, likely misguided but true.

Some regret.

And a deep fondness that leaked from his eyes like invisible tears.

Its that image he wants to keep prominent on the wall, as deep inside the palace as he can go.

When he returns he realizes he's missed the tone. And another message has come through. With the framed picture still at the front of his mind he snatches the phone up and swipes.

You're an idiot. Come over here and help me you berk. - JW

Sherlock smiles and decides to get dressed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entering the Garden.

When Sherlock arrives at the Watson residence Mary opens the front door. She's dressed comfortably for lounging around the house.

"Sherlock dear."

Shes smiling but looks a little confused.

Sherlock realizes she eyeing him up and down. Had he put on dirty clothes? Why is she looking?

"That's... um that's a nice suit Sherlock. But um... didnt you come to help John pull weeds and cut the garden?"

Sherlock smiles back at her. 

"Yes Mary I certainly have."

She almost rolls her eyes as she lets him in.

He scans the atrium as she closes the door behind them. Shes hoovering... the cord is stretched from one room to another.

"He's um... hes already outdoors."

She says. Why is she so fumbly with her words? What is she thinking? Is this a trap of some sort to set him up with a girl friend... a distracting partner to make sure John keeps his distance? What is this?

He begins to allow paranoia to snag at his chest. Not that he will make a scene over it. He will just leave in that case and John and Mary can be left to deal with whatever poor woman they've decided to place in his path.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

He follows mary out to the garden and there in the full light of a london summer sun is John Watson. Captain John Hamish Watson, he corrects his brain. The title that commonly comes to mind when his friend is looking particularly commanding. 

A sleeveless green shirt and short trousers, surplus army boots. Not his original pair. Hasn't shaved today. Likely wants to wait out the work day before working on any sort of freshness. Wedding ring on. Doesn't mind the odd tan line it will force on his finger. Still Devoted.

The sweat though. Hes been out a while already. Likely since before Sherlock lit up the incriminating cigarette that morning.  
Industrious John.

When John looks up and catches Sherlock's eye John smirks. 

"Spencer Hart your best outfit for this work eh?"

Sherlock stops at the bottom of the garden steps. He hadn't worn a jacket.... 

Mary had turned and gone back inside. Giving Sherlock an odd feeling she wants them to be alone.

John waits... perhaps for a verbal response. Oh yes. Words.

"Well... I wore a white shirt. I'm told it reflects the sun rather than causing the wearer to become overheated."

At that John laughs out loud.

Sherlock smiles at him genuine.

"Well I imagine Mary has gone to find you something more appropriate. Figured you didnt have anything." John jibes.

"No John. Of course. Ive not worn half pants since primary school." Sherlock says in a snort.

"I'm glad you came Sherlock. Its been a few weeks. Mrs Hudson says you've not been busy." 

John turns to grasp the wheelbarrow and wheels it closer to one of the nearby flower beds.

Sherlock shrugs. "Nothing on."

Why was Mrs Hudson practicing recognizance? Is she bored too?  
Are they worried? Why are they worried over him?

"...says youve been smoking." John says, looking away.

Sherlock drops his head with a sigh and automatically starts rolling up his sleeves. He walks over to John and displays his pale arms. Clean.

"Just smoking mind you." He says. And his proximity has alighted his nose with the salt smell of his friend's sweat.

John nodds. He keeps his eyes on his. 

"Hows your back feeling?"  
John says and looks pointedly away.

"Not ready for the pool of course ' he jokes '... very little in the way of pain tho. Some... numb spots. Random. Can never tell when it will happen."

Sherlock unconsciously wraps his arm around himself to feel for his back. Serbia is so far away he thinks as his eyes land on a yellow flower.

"That's normal. Nerve damage. It will settle eventually."

Sherlock takes in a breath. 

"Of course."

Sherlock hears Mary come outside and plop some clothes on the garden table.  
He doesn't turn around and she doesn't say anything.

"Don't guess you'll need any privacy to change." John says.

"Me? Never. Transport John."


End file.
